Belong to You
by creativefuir
Summary: He came into my life like lightening. He was damaged and flawed but I was drawn to him as I'd never been to anything. So much so that I was willing to embark on a physical affair. One question haunting me: could we be more? *SMUT/LANGUAGE WARNING.*DEF DE.
1. Chapter 1

**This story has been inspired by Bared to You and Fifty Shades of Grey. Disclaimer: I do not own Damon even though I would love to. This story is only for amusement purposes.**

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Paving my way through the narrow stairs of the subway leading to the Financial District, a sight that is distinctly New York greeted me. A plethora of yellow cabs dotting the roads, lumbering garbage trucks navigating the one-way streets, impatient people dressed sharply gracing the streets, smoking pot holes and of course the skyscrapers. The smell of cart food mixed with the fumes of the cars wafted in the air. The sensory input is always astonishing but like every other New Yorker I had learnt to cruise right through it all.

Today is my first day at Saltzman Publishing, my first taste of the real world as they call it. As a fresh college graduate, I have no idea what would be waiting for me. I was growing increasingly anxious and my palms were sweaty. Switching my heavy black tote bag to my left shoulder, I try to balance in my black pumps simultaneously maintaining a fast pace. _Damn these heels. _Wanting to make the best impression I was wearing a simple sheath dress. My long brunette hair was left open, billowing in the sticky August wind. I look or at least I think I look as the other professional women skirting their way to their offices.

A few minutes later, I arrive at my destination: Salvatore Industries. The glass building that disappears into the sky is intimidating to say the least. On the other side of the revolving doors, the interior is just as exquisite; dark marble floors and brushed aluminum security desk and turnstiles. Flashing my I.D card at the two heavily built bald security men; I make my way to the bank of elevators.

Twenty floors later, a glass double door entrance accosts me to the reception area. A blonde woman with the brightest blue eyes, wearing a cranberry colored blouse smiles widely at me from behind her desk, appeasing some of my anxiety.

"I am Elena Gilbert." I use a professional tone.

"Of course! Alaric told me all about you. I am Caroline", she chirps, "Just go down the left hallway to the first door, Alaric is waiting for you."

Giving her a small smile, I walk down the narrow hallway. There are only two rooms. I let out one huge breath before I open the first one, stumbling headfirst into the office, landing on my knees and hands.

_Damn my clumsiness. _Through the curtain that my hair had formed on my face I see a strong hand with long fingers stretched out. I carefully place my hand feeling an odd exhilarating shiver run through me.

My eyes graze his sleek black pants and a crisp white shirt whose top two buttons were left open. _Sculpted_. As perfect as his body appeared, it isn't until I reach his face that I go down for the count.

_Wow. Just wow_.

His jaw was spectacular. His face was framed by inky messy hair. His thin lips were smirking and his eyes were cerulean blue. _Ocean blue. _

Mr. Tall and Handsome pulls me up with ease and grace. His eyes boring into me and I cannot not for the love of god look away. I breathe him in, his body wash, cologne, all so sinful.

A blush creeps over me as he releases me. _How lovely to make a fool in front of this godly creature_. His eyes shining with mischief alluding confidence and power were still fixed on me.

"Thank…You." I manage to stutter in a small voice.

Smirking at me, he winked before turning around to face the dark brown haired man, my boss to be precise whom I had completely forgotten about. _Good going._

"Later, Ric." His voice smooth, velvety and cultured. Clicking his black shiny heels on the marble floor he passes by me, never once looking back, leaving like the hurricane stirring inside me.

* * *

Alaric had been warm and welcoming. He was trim and fit and carried himself with a poise that inspired trust and respect. He showed me my cubicle and left me with a few scripts that he wanted summarized. My love affair with books had led me to major in writing. This was my forte. _I can do this. _I high five inwardly. Booting up my laptop, I begin pulling out the items had brought to personalize my space. One of them was a framed collage of my parents and my brother at our lake house, and another one with my friends at a bar when I had reached the landmark 21.

The next time I look up the neon green numbers on the table clock read 1:00. Placing my laptop in my bag I walk to the reception.

"Caroline, want to grab…"

I am cut off by the shrill of her telephone that is perched on her crescent shaped white table.

"Yes, she is here. I'll just send her up."

"So Mr. Salvatore wants to see you. Just take the elevator up to the 35th floor."

_What? Who is this Mr. Salvatore and why does he want to see me?_

I try to fight all thoughts that are plaguing my mind but to no vain. The ding of the elevator alerts me and I step into the car, impatiently pressing number 35 twice that stood alone, hovering above all the others. I step out flustered to a smoky glass security entrance that was sandblasted with Salvatore Industries in big masculine font. Two pesky blonde women sitting behind a huge mahogany desk fitted with iMacs eye me from head to toe.

"Elena Gilbert " is all I manage under their scrutiny.

The ginger frowns picking up the phone with her long manicured hand. "Mr. Salvatore, Elena Gilbert."

"Yes sir."

She points to door across the huge glass conference room and I make my way.

I brace myself for whoever is behind it and push the slight ajar door. The New York skyline that can be viewed from the floor to ceiling momentarily paralyzes me. I take in the huge room decorated with mahogany furniture. Beautiful mosaic paintings hang on the left wall. The same side has an L-shaped black leather sofa and a coffee table. A slight shriek of a chair breaks me out of my reverie causing my eyes to lock with his.

The same perfect white skin. The same blue eyes. _This was Mr. Salvatore?_ _Mr. Tall and Handsome?_

"Miss Gilbert, take a seat." He gestures to the two huge chairs across his table.

I comply, stunned into silence. This is all so…foreign. I am not sure what I am supposed to say or how I am supposed to act. _Why am I even here? _I nervously tuck a strand of hair behind my ear.

He cocks his head to one side regarding me intently "How is your first day coming along?" _How the hell does he know it's my first day?_

"Apart from the entrance I made, I would say it has been pretty good so far", I reply coolly even though I am anything but.

He smirks once again not saying anything.

The intercom sitting on his neat table beeps breaking the awkward silence.

A black tall bald man clad in a fitted black suit enters stiffly. Walking towards the coffee table, he places down a brown bag that had the words 'Becco' printed in bright orange. Retrieving a black tray from underneath the coffee table he takes out the two food containers from the brown bag and leaves them on it. I watch him with immense interest. He almost seems mechanical.

"Will that be all, Sir?" he questions.

"Yes, you can leave now Lucas." _Aye, aye sir. So curt, so mysterious. _

Before I can analyze him any further, Mr. Tall and Handsome saunters out of his chair with a grace of Cheshire cat. Turning my chair to face him standing, he holds out his hand. Before I can reason with myself, my hand finds his. As soon as his supple fingers lock with my sweaty ones an unfamiliar feeling erupts in my stomach. He was blinding me and all sense of logic seemed to have deserted me.

Walking me to the plush leather sofa he sits extremely close to me, invading my personal space, my thoughts, even the air I was breathing. He was plague.

"I thought we could talk over food."

_About? I didn't even know his first name. _"So is this a welcoming ritual for all the new employees, Mr. Salvatore?"

He deftly opens up the food containers, filling my nostrils with the mouthwatering smell of pasta.

"No" he replies simply as he hands me a plastic fork placing one container in front of me.

_Why me then? _ Before I can voice my thoughts, he shoves my fork full of linguine rolled around it in my mouth that had been floating mid air.

I moan as the flavors burst on my tongue and open my eyes to look at Mr. Tall and Handsome, his eyes dilated and darker. His index finger swipes the corner of my mouth gently and he brings it to his, sucking hard.

"Hmm…delicious."

I quickly dart my eyes to my food, my heart throbbing. His all-knowing smirk resting on him. He seemed so sure of himself, emitting a sense of danger, one I was unsure of walking into.

"Mr. Salvatore why am I actually here?" I ask bravely still looking away. "I don't even know your name." He was affecting me in a way no one ever had.

"Eager Elena?" he rolls my name seductively, " You'll find out soon enough. Damon, Damon is my name. So tell me about yourself" he adds changing the subject.

I shrug. "Writing major from NYU. Lead a normal life, nothing too interesting."

"Hobbies? Parents? Boyfriend?" He prompts.

"Well, I am not too comfortable sharing personal information with strangers."

He narrows his eyes in a menacing manner causing me to squirm and sneers, "Well, you are certainly comfortable with having lunch with them."

I swallow thickly, he's right. _I have no semblance of thought when it comes to you, Mr. Tall and Handsome_. Cleaning his mouth with a brown paper napkin, he throws it on the empty cardboard food container. He cocks his head and looks at me with a new glint in his eyes that scares me.

"Now to why you are here Miss Gilbert, I want to fuck you."

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**So my first ever chapter. Tell me what you guys think. I would love reviews/ideas. I also need a BETA. **

**Follow me on tumblr: delenaskote**


	2. Chapter 2

**First of all, thank you to every single one of you who reviewed/alerted/favorited this story. A special shout to all the anonymous reviewers because I couldn't reply to you guys. And to my beta idontgiveadamnsoshutup16. Enjoy reading!**

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I am definitely hallucinating due to an overdose from his pheromones. There is no way in hell he just said that. I gape at him, stupefied by my insanity or perhaps his.

Damon sits authoritatively; his left ankle rests on the right knee, causing his dark gray socks to peek from underneath his perfectly expensive tailored black pants. His blue irises are smoldering.

Sighing audibly, he rolls his eyes.

"Elena? Is there anything stopping you from fucking me?" His husky, callous voice breaks me out of my confusion.

_Fuck. He's serious. _

"Yes!" I screech, my voice full of spite. "You and your pathetic personality! How dare you approach me like some prostitute you're picking up from the side of the road?"

Rage is coursing through every vein in my body and I am trying to keep my fingers fisted. My nails are digging into my palms painfully but I know the second I will let go I will jump him like a peach-orchard boar and scratch his pretty face. He opens his mouth but I don't let him get his words out. There is no way I am listening to him.

"You think because you've got all this-," my hands gesture frantically to his face and his huge office, "-I'll open my legs for you? Never. And now, if this insane conversation is over, I need to go."

"Elena," Damon says, trying to stop me.

"Don't. And oh, thank you for lunch. It was a truly an unforgettable date."

I pick up my bag from near the desk and stomp off. I purposely pull the door with force behind me, causing an audible thud that provides me with only a slight satisfaction.

The clucking of my heels induces the two blonde heads to snap in my direction. I raise my eyebrow and they begin scurrying through the files on their table, probably sensing that I am not in the mood for their shit right now. _Good call._

As soon as I step into the elevator, my legs give out. My mind is in a hopeless loop, replaying the entire scene. The nerve of that man! I am in a state of aberration. The door opens a few seconds later, not giving me enough time to regain my bearings.

I quickly shuffle past a bewildered Caroline, not wanting her to see my irritated and disheveled state. _Oh, what I would do for a bottle of tequila right now._

I am still reading the first script, more like staring at. I've clocked out and haven't even gotten through one script. _Pathetic. _My mind keeps reeling back to Mr. Asshole, though admittedly, Mr. Tall and Handsome, too. I just want to kiss his lips once, to taste whether they're as sweet as they seem to be. I want to run my tongue on his chiseled jaw and…_Oh, my _! I quickly reprimand myself. There is no way I am capitulating just because he is attractive…and _heaven sent. _I shake my head disapprovingly. I have never been so intensely attracted to another human being before. I've never despised someone so much either.

Real world day 1 is over. And oh boy, what a day it has been. Melding into foot traffic, I set off towards my apartment, my mind still circling the 35th floor.

* * *

My tight ponytail is swinging left to right rhythmically against the thrashing wind and MGMT blasts in my ears at a deafening volume as I breeze past the beautiful manmade lake perched in the middle of Central Park. The piercing sunrays are fading, and the evening auburn hues begin appearing. I am speeding past the cyclists, couples sitting in spitting distance on the horse carriages and the little helmet-donning children on their scooties, at an unrelenting pace.

I take out all my anger on my feet 'til I cannot feel my legs anymore. I am breathless and am barely able to make it into my third floor walk up in SoHo, Downtown Manhattan. It's eerily peaceful in my apartment today. Usually Matt is blaring some Red Hot Chili Peppers song right now, while busy slaving over the stove.

Matt Donovan and I have been inseparable since the first day of kindergarten. We held hands, made sand castles on the beach and cycled to one another's houses whenever our parents didn't have our way. All throughout our middle school, I was part of his havoc-causing boys' entourage. Entrance into high school, however, marked the beginning of our relationship. I was a cheerleader and he was on the football team, it only seemed natural that we'd get together. But honestly, we were never really meant to last—we're too different. We want separate things in life.

Things changed, I changed. I jumped at the opportunity of leaving when I got accepted into NYU and left small town Mystic Falls, Virginia. I have never looked back.

A few months later though, Matt followed me in Manhattan and he got a job as a sous chef at an American café. We started living together again. I don't know. I guess, not living together was never an option for us. We're just a dysfunctional family, always have been. He is still the little Matty that I run off too with all my problems.

However, since Matt is currently off tanning on the beaches of Miami, I resort to a bottle of crisp red wine to solve my problems. _One problem. _Still nursing a goblet full of wine, I sink into the warm bubble bath. Vanilla scented candles illuminate my modest white bathroom while Adele soulfully croons via my iHome. I close my eyes and feel the tension dissipating.

* * *

It's too early to get a perfect line of eyeliner or perhaps it's the result of one too many glasses of wine from last night. I brush my hair, and slip on my black flats. I checked myself one last time in the mirror before quickly chomping on a banana and swallowing two Advils. It's only 7:45 am as I enter tower de Salvatore. _Yes, I am consciously making an effort not to run in to Mr. Tall and Handsome. _It's almost empty at this time; no snooty rich smartly dressed men are whizzing around on their cellphones. Only a few security guards positioned near the turnstiles can be found.

The elevator doors are gracefully inching closer as I rush inside. My mouth hangs open. Damon is the lone occupant, standing mightily smack in the middle with his hands shoved in his pockets. _Shit. So much for coming early. I have such great luck_. I move to a corner looking away but his presence is prickling my skin. I can feel his gaze on my profile and it's unnerving but I keep my attention to the aluminum brushed elevator doors. He is radiating a palpable energy and a sexual magnetism, and it is taking everything I have to hold my feet in their place.

"Ignoring me now, Elena?" Cold sweat runs down my spine. The way he drags my name out and savors it. God, it's so sexual, it's almost arousing. However, ignoring him is the only way to not to let him get under my skin. I feel like I'm failing.

"Every time I close my eyes, all I can think of is how loud your screams and moans will sound when I am attacking your cunt with my tongue to spread you out. I will suck every last bit of your juices. I will pound inside you filling you so _completely_ that you will come so hard, it will hurt."

"Close your eyes and use your hands because the only time that's the only time that will be true." The juncture between my thighs is aching but my words came out cool and unattached. His vulgar words are such a turn on and I am appalled at this revelation.

The elevator dings for the 20th floor. _Praise Jesus. _Damon jerks my hand, just as I am about to step out and pulls me back inside. I watch the elevator doors shut. He swipes a keycard and presses the two buttons halting the elevator. _Shit_. I am stuck with him in a small enclosure and there is no escape. This is both a nightmare and dream rolled into one. He stealthily saunters towards me and I look at him. Really look at him.

God. He is striking, even more so than I remember. His purely black glossy silky strands are slightly falling on his forehead, which emphasizes his blue orbs. His suit is all black and so is his skinny tie that is knotted perfectly on his crisp white shirt. His cologne is filling my nostrils, and I can feel control draining away like sand falling from fingertips.

Taking advantage of my frazzled state he pins both my hands on the cold elevator wall. His knee fiercely stands between my legs, spreading them as far as my skirt allows. His close proximity causes my breath to hitch and I am intoxicated by his smell. His nose is touching mine and I cannot see beyond his eyes. Cocking his head slightly, he nuzzles the depression of my collarbone. I feel his warm wet tongue on my ear licking, sucking and biting. The sensation of his touch ripples through me and I bite my tongue so hard to hold a whimper that it bleeds leaving a metallic taste in my mouth.

"I. Will. Have. You." He enunciates every word in a menacing manner.

"Never." The voice that comes out of my trachea doesn't even convince me.

He growls and holds both my wrists with one hand in a steely grip, moving his other hand under my skirt and rests them on my thigh. As soon as his long fingers trace the opening of my nether folds through my lace panties, I am sure I will combust. All sense of wrong and right blurs. I want him, need him. _Badly. _

"Your panties are soaking. Are you a liar or does fighting me turn you on?" He asks, a smug smile painted on his beautiful face.

_Both. _I purse my lips.

He continues his sweet torture. I can feel his fingers on my clit, along my vaginal lips, and then on the curve of my ass. My hips buck forward involuntarily. _Please. _His finger rams into my vaginal canal right behind my labia painfully. My head tips back and my eyelids draw close giving into the ecstasy. His finger never moves.

"When I fuck you, you will remember my big hard cock pushing inside you. Every time someone else will have you, you will regret not having me inside you, making you come, making you scream."

He steps back and leaves me feeling oddly bereft. My thoughts are disarray, like a Rubik's cube that refuses to get aligned. He fishes his black iPhone out his trouser pocket and lights his screen up.

"Fix your skirt, Elena. I have a meeting in five. "

He swipes his keycard again and the elevator doors open. I am so furious at him, at myself. _It's entirely my fault. I am so stupid, so stolid for giving into a man who will run for the hills after he has his way with me. _I close my eyes, trying to shake off my anger and inch my skirt down.

"We can definitely continue this over lunch break." He smirks.

_That's it. You called for it, Salvatore. _I accumulate spit in my mouth and send it flying on his face. The doors close allowing me to only capture a small glimpse of his shocked face.

A tear slips down my cheek.

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**Reviews are lovely guys so drop by to say whatever you want (i'll give you cookies) and they inspire me to write faster. Ideas are always welcome. **


	3. Chapter 3

I am gasping for breath like a fish taken out of water as I lumber into my office. Hunching over the water fountain, I allow cold-water to pour over my chapped lips and then slide down my dry trachea, quenching my thirst. Initially, I could feel every nerve cell in my body shooting up with pain, but now, everything is just numb. As soon as I enter my cubicle, I sag onto the soft cushion of my black revolving chair. This feels far too good.

No, climbing twenty floors is not on my list of ingenious ideas but it is the only way to avoid _him_.

I fish out the ever-present Tylenol bottle from my bag and swallow two of these babies. I can feel my leg muscles relaxing and I jut my eyes close to simply enjoy the sensation. _Damon_. It's a curse. He is there every single time I close my eyes. His crystalline blue eyes are beckoning me; my name is rolling off his raspberry colored lips. I am biting his soft lips and doing every kind of bad in a book. And lord knows, I want to.

But it can't happen. Never. I am prey and he is the predator. Nothing more. Lobotomy and chastity belt are my only viable options when it comes to him.

I guess purging should work for now.

So, I rid myself of demonic Damon thoughts and proceed to the pile of scripts that I still have to read.

I take out my favorite neon yellow highlighter and dip into the first script. I am instantly enraptured by the author's expressiveness and great plot. I jot down tiny notes on the margins and begin typing out a summary on my MacBook.

It is only when I hear Caroline's chirpy voice that I realize how much time has gone by. I have gone through four scripts and they are now stacked on the corner left of my wooden table.

"Elena, lunch? I know this new restaurant that just opened up and I am dying to try it." She flashes me her wide smile showing her incredibly white teeth.

"Of course." I return her the same teeth-displaying smile. I am not sure if it is she or the fact that mission: do not remember Mr. Asshole has been successful.

I settle my black woven hobo under my right underarm and follow Caroline to the elevator when a wave of nausea hits me. What if he is in there? In that confined place where his propinquity sets me on fire and burns me with desire. Where I am the moth and he is the flame.

I squeeze my eyes shut and send a prayer. _Please, just please, no Damon today_. I am about to promise a visit to Sunday church when the elevator doors slide open. I let out a breath. It's empty.

New York city is enveloped in bright warm sunshine today. Throngs of people are moving up and down the streets. Austere expressions gracing most of their faces but I can't keep the smile off my face. My prayers have been answered and I am almost, almost, free of my vile thoughts. Hallelujah! I am about to do my victory dance when I realize I am still trotting down some cobbled street in the financial district.

The Thai restaurant we go to is exquisite. A beautiful fountain with floating candles sits in the middle of a vast array of circular tables. Caroline and I sit near the glass door entrance on a table that has vase of beautiful lilies perched in the center. We talk about everything from life to shopping while we wait for her grilled calamari salad and my green curry.

"Well you gave your life details but you forgot to dish out on the most important aspect: boys!" Her eyes twinkle as she questions.

I laugh awkwardly. What can I say? I want to sleep with a man who wants me for a fuck. But I won't sleep with him. I steer the conversation towards Matt instead.

"I would love to meet him." Caroline squeals after I tell her the abridged biography of Matt and me.

"I think I can set that up as soon as he gets back." On second thought, Matt and Caroline could be good together. She is beautiful, smart and seems fun.

After finishing our lunch, we head to Casa Salvatore again.

It's the same dance every time I ride the elevator and it's becoming sickening. My palms grow sweaty and fear grips me over. I send a silent prayer again. He is not there. Either today is my lucky day or god just added me in the list of people he likes. Perhaps, he's just saving me from the devil. That seems more accurate.

Caroline stops at the reception and I head towards my cubicle. Two more scripts and then I can call it a day. A folded paper is sitting on the black keys of my MacBook. Microsoft Word is still open on my desktop with a half typed document. I flip the paper open and read it:

_Lunch can only satisfy a certain kind of hunger. _

_Ps: I'd eat you over the green curry any day._

The note is nameless but it doesn't need one. I already know. _Damon._

How could he have known? Is he stalking me now? I never saw him. Blood drains from my face. I never anticipated this. What am I going to do now?

Dammit. I know what he's doing. Trying to get under my skin, trying to make me fear him. _Sick Bastard._

No, there is no way I am going to be afraid. He may be a ruthless entrepreneur (yeah, I googled him) but it doesn't mean he can coerce me into having his way.

I crumple the note and toss it in the trashcan under my desk.

I am a stubborn mule and I am going to make sure that he loses this game. Game. That is exactly what I am to him.

I toss all thoughts of him away, determined not to get affected and work my way through the remaining scripts.

* * *

"Matt!" I squeal when I spot him from the threshold. His head shoots up from the tomatoes he is cutting with great finesse on the kitchen counter to find me.

"Elena, Chinese take out really?" He points the knife in his hand to the food containers that are unceremoniously pouring out of the trashcan near the kitchen slab.

I would usually retort but I am far too happy to see him so I run over and squish him with a bear hug instead. Well, try to squish him.

"I'll go get changed and then you are going to tell me all about Miami. No leaving out any details." I glare at him.

Matt just rolls his eyes. There is no way I am letting him get away with details. He always does that.

I dress in my comfortable PINK sweatpants and throw my hair in a ponytail. When I come out of my room, the aroma of food is wafting and Every Breath You Take is playing. How appropriate. Should be Damon's national anthem.

Matt turns off the music when he spots me and sets two plates on the table.

After we have devoured every single bite of his delicious Chicken Parmesan and I have managed to squeeze out some details of Miami, we both slump on the couch in front of the TV. I am far too full and have a food baby. The joys of a home cooked meal.

I turn around to look at Matt who has been flipping TV channels aimlessly for a good hour.

"So, Matt why did you really come back so early?"

"You know what day it is tomorrow. I would never leave you alone for that." His green eyes shine with sincerity.

An involuntarily lump forms in my throat. I want to thank him, I really do. He is all I have left but I can't form any words. I just nod. I rest my head on his shoulder while Matt continues swapping channels.

* * *

It's the same routine at work everyday. Lots of scripts to read. Lunch with Caroline and then back to scripts. It might seem mundane but I love it. I enjoy the escape that literature provides and that is exactly what I need today- escape.

It's Friday but I can't conjure enthusiasm for the weekend. I am the only one. Over the past hour my cubicle has probably had more visits than a public toilet. My co-workers have been coming to invite me to an opening of a new club. I smile apologetically, fake a cough and tell them I am sick each time.

The sky is heavily dotted with dark clouds when I step out of Salvatore Corporations and into the grid locked street. The sun has completely vanished and it is dark and gloomy just like me. Thunderstorm is looming and I pick up my steps towards the subway that is a good ten minutes away.

Suddenly huge raindrops begin pelting my skin. The water is cold and falling at an unrelenting pace. It causes everything to come back. Everything that I had been bottling up and running away from the entire day. This very day, five years ago. I remember it like yesterday. The car crash. The sheer fear of falling from a bridge when time happened to stand still. The cold ruthless water seeping into our car. My parents. _My parents._

A loud sob escapes my throat and tears begin trickling down my already soaked cheeks. I feel so empty, so broken. It is only when someone's umbrella smacks me in my head that I realize that I have been crying in the middle of the road. I run over to stand under an extended roof of a cafe.

I am completely soaked. My white shirt is like second skin now and my red bra is completely visible under it. Water has even managed to seep in my shoes. But I am not concerned, not even slightly. Pain is the only thing I can feel.

I watch cars swish water ruthlessly with teary eyes, hailing a cab to no avail twice.

A sleek black Audi stops in front of me and I watch with sheer interest. There is nothing better to do. A man steps out. _Damon._ Jesus Christ! Can this man not leave me alone? Stalker.

My teeth grit with anger as he saunters towards me and I involuntarily rake my eyes over him. The top two buttons of his white shirt are open and his hair looks darker in the rain, really bringing out the blue of his eyes. Handsome and impeccable as always.

"Elena." He holds his hand out to me.

"No." I may never be immune to his looks but there is no way I am going anywhere with him. Even if it means standing in this thunderstorm till my legs give out.

"I am not asking."

"Just go away." I whine. I am so tired of his little game. I just want to be left alone. It's not too much to ask for, is it?

"That's it. You asked for it." He bends down slightly, places his arms around my ass and throws me over his shoulder. What the actual fuck? This man is crazy. I begin pounding punches on his hard back simultaneously kicking him. It doesn't affect him the slightest but it feels so good...oh so good. He opens the back car down and drops me inside on the leather upholstery, sitting beside me. I can see the strong broad shoulders of a suited man who I presume is Damon's driver.

Who does he think he is, forcing me inside his car? First he stalks me and now this.

I fold my arms over my chest and look out the window. Not looking at Damon's face might help me calm down. I feel like a time bomb about do explode with anger any second. I am really beginning to think I have anger management issues but is it all him. He makes me so out of control and I hate it.

I am still dripping wet and cold. There is a small pool of water around where I am sitting. I slightly feel bad for destroying such a beautiful car. Slightly. I feel Damon's hands on my shoulders and he turns me to face him. He holds my gaze and begins undoing the top buttons of my shirt.

"NO!" I start shoving his hands away with as much force as I can muster. Why is he opening my shirt buttons? I never pegged him to be a rapist. I am in panic mode but I need to think. Think, think fast. I need to get out of his car. Perhaps open the lock and jump out. How much could it hurt?

Damon grabs my wrists forcefully, halting my movements.

"Elena, I am not going to do anything. I like my partners willing. Now calm down." His eyes are so hard I can't help but nod.

Damon releases my hands from his steely grip and begins working on the buttons of my white shirt. I suck in a breath. My heart is thumping so violently I am sure it will rip out of my chest any second. Damon's blue orbs are fixed intently on my eyes. When his fingers graze over my shoulders to remove my shirt, wildfire spreads on my skin. His one touch burns me with desire I have never felt before. He throws my shirt on the floor and picks up his black coat. With extreme care and gentleness I didn't know he was capable of possessing, he buttons the black coat on me.

Concern is resonating in his eyes. Real, honest concern. He no longer looks like a cold ruthless man and it causes me to come undone. I look away embarrassed by the tears spilling down my face. Dear lord, I am supposed to be strong. Something is really wrong with me. I have never cried in the presence of others and here I am sitting next to Mr. Impeccable/Business extraordinaire acting like a hormonal teenager. But I can't help it. I just can't seem to keep my emotions in check around him.

"Stupid girl." Damon murmurs in a soft yet accusing voice.

He tugs my arm and forces me into his lap. I sit in his lap stiffly but not once protesting, not once questioning what I am doing with him, my stalker. I must be possessed. His fingers gently trace my spine and I lose the little fight I had in me.

Damon is a hair's breadth away from me. His minty breath is caressing my face and the distinct smell of his body wash, shampoo and something Damon is permeating my senses. And even though I shouldn't, I find them oddly comforting. A feeling of safety envelops me when his arms lightly come around me. I rest my head on his shoulder. My wet hair sticks to his bright white shirt but he doesn't seem to mind. I finally give in and put my arms around his soft alabaster neck, snuggling deeper into his chest. I don't care that I shouldn't. I don't care that it's Damon. I don't even care that this is all wrong. He is a stalker, cold and heartless but I am here, holding him. And it feels good. _Better than good_. It's been my problem since the very first time I laid my eyes on him; I have no semblance of thought when it comes to this man.

Damon places a feather light kiss on my forehead. My eyes flutter close and I swear in that moment my heart stopped beating.

I am in deep shit. Real deep shit.

* * *

I erased and rewrote this chapter so many times. I am still not satisfied with urghhh. **Please drop a review . They mean a lot to me and inspire me to write. **ps: for anyone who is worried, this doesn't mean Damon is all roses and hearts now. Just stay with the story to find out.


	4. Chapter 4

The piercing yellow and orange sunrays peeking through my open pale pink organza curtains twitch my eyelids. I hastily grab my duvet that is half on the floor and shove it on my face, sinking deeper in it to block the sunlight. _Better. _

As soon as I shut my heavy eyelids again, the back of my skull begins throbbing with a vicious ache. My temples are pricking with the same acute pain. For a split moment, I believe I am soon going to be six feet under due to a brain aneurysm but then flashes of last night's events cross my mind. _Crap. _After my tête-à-tête with Damon I had spent the entire evening yesterday numbing my mind with alcohol.

His hand clasped tightly with mine, he had walked me up to my apartment. He had planted a sweet chaste kiss on my cheek and walked away. No words, just simply walked away.

Long after he left, I could still feel his breath on me, his lips on my cheek, his long fingers gliding, caressing my back. Just like every other day, last evening my mind was an iPod on replay mode, playing the concern etched in his blue eyes over and over again. Was it an act to get me or is there more to Damon Salvatore? I was like a confused chameleon in a bag of skittles. I just couldn't wrap my head around him, still can't.

The confusion was gnawing. So, as soon as the rain subsided, I had dashed to the European bar behind my apartment. I had drowned tequila shots 'til I forgot the blue-eyed devil. I vaguely remember pop locking and dropping on the floor as people jeered me on. Sweaty men had their hands all over me. I cringe at the memory. Not drinking again. _Ever._

Since I've learnt the moral of the story, I decide to move on and try to sleep this hangover off.

I must have only slept for fifteen minutes when I hear someone pounding the door relentlessly. I wince as the noise cause unbearable pain in my head.

"Matt? Matty, please answer the door." His room is right next to mine; separated by a thin cardboard paper wall that ensures communication. No reply. _Where is he? _

"Okay...okay. I am coming." I rasp out realizing this person was not going to give up.

I kick off my duvet in frustration revealing pink socks clad feet and naked legs. I carefully place my feet on the wooden floor and pry my heavy eyelids open. A wave of nausea hits me. I inhale deeply, gather my bearings and clump to the front door, almost getting knocked down by my pencil heel booties lying on the floor.

I glance over the neon microwave clock: 8:30. _Seriously? _ What could anyone want at this ungodly hour?

I unlock the front door and try to focus on the stranger standing in front of me.

The destroyer of peace, the sin of lust, Damon Salvatore, is standing on my doorstep.

He saunters past me while I stand perplexed. I don't think I'll ever get over him appearing out of thin air. I bang the door shut and roll my eyes. It's not like I can push him out now.

When I turn around he is already sitting on the loveseat opposite the coffee table. He's wearing light blue denim jeans and a black cotton shirt. His biceps are peeking deliciously through the tight half sleeves. His left ankle rests on his right knee. He carefully folds and places his black Ray Ban aviators on the coffee table and eyes me from head to toe. His blue orbs linger on my legs and his stone face breaks into a smug smile.

I scowl when I realize he is ogling my naked legs. The oversized shirt I am wearing is barely covering my ass.

"So are you going to tell me what you are here for?" I snarl.

"Sit." He motions to the little space next to me.

I fold my arms on my chest and stare at him. Who does he think he is bossing me?

His eyebrow arches up challenging me, his mouth pursed into a thin line now. I don't want him to throw me over his shoulder in this state of undress. _Caveman. _I huff and drag my feet towards the armchair like a petulant child. There is no way I am sitting next to him. I pull the cotton shirt down and press my thighs together as I sit down. No need for a free show.

Even the distance between us does not quell the palpable energy between us. It's always there, pulling me towards him.

"Do you feel this?" He motions to the space between us. "Why do you deny it?"

"I don't feel anything." I lie smoothly.

"No lies, Elena. Ever." Asperity seeps into his voice, as his eyes turn glacial. "Now tell me the real reason."

He's back to being the cold-hearted intimidating entrepreneur. The man that was placating me yesterday is gone. He must be bipolar. There is no other explanation.

"I don't appreciate being treated like a sex doll."

" But you don't mind gyrating with random strangers at bars," he fires back.

"You were stalking me?!" My throat is dry and itchy but I can't help yelling.

"Yes." His face is impassive, with no trace of guilt or regret. He doesn't even have the grace to look disgruntled.

"Why the fuck would you do that? Are you crazy, Damon?" _Fucking Stalker. _

"I don't appreciate your tone and if it keeps this way I will not be held responsible for my actions." I am positively sure his threat is not just a threat. His eyes are cold and I squirm under his gaze.

I calm myself before I open my mouth once again.

"Are your stalker tendencies habitual? You choose your prey and hunt them till they give in?" Venom involuntarily seeps into my tone. Pissing him off does not seem like a good idea but he's so infuriating. Plus, what can he possibly do?

"I don't hunt anyone as you put it. I get women easily without having to waste any of my time." _I am sure he does. One look at him and anyone would take off their panties. _

"Why me?"

"Dammit! Because I am trying to figure you out!" He runs a hand through his always-mussed hair. He is furious and I can feel his anger radiating in waves.

"So you follow me around like a creep instead of asking me?" I really need to control my anger. I close my eyes to calm down and clutch my temples.

"Can we please do this another time, I have a really bad hangover." I am sitting in front of this god like creature with messy hair and breath reeking of alcohol. My head is throbbing even more so now.

It's really too early to be having this conversation.

Honestly I am not sure if I am ever going to be ready to have a conversation with him because I just can't think around him. Even right now I am not sure how much longer I can hold the fort. I stare at the contours and lines of his face. Cataloging the details of his face doesn't help. Instead it escalates my want to jump him and whisper two words, "Take me."

"No, we are going to do this right now. Where's the aspirin?"

"Huh?"

"Aspirin, Elena?" He speaks menacingly.

"Second cupboard, top shelf in the kitchen." He gets up gracefully and I watch him as he walks in the open kitchen. His shoulders are broad and his waist is slim. The jeans hug him perfectly. Why does he have to be so damn gorgeous?

I am chewing my lip deep in thought when Damon's palm with two aspirins appears. He is holding a glass with orange juice in the other hand.

"Drink" he orders. I take the two tablets and orange juice from him without further complaints. As his fingers touch mine, an electric bolt surges through my body. I flinch as if I've been electrocuted.

He walks back to the love seat and resumes his previous stance. "So now let's resolve this. Do you want me?"

"Yes." There I said it. It's not like we both don't know it.

"Then why do you keep denying me? I don't get you." His eyes dart over me as if he is trying to figure me out.

"I don't get you. Do you use the 'I want to fuck you approach' and score an orgasm?"

Damon's face is smooth in unreadable passivity. "We are not discussing other women. You are the issue at hand. By your own admission you want me so why don't you sleep with me then?"

"Are you really that obtuse? Do I have to spell it out for you?"

"Tone, Elena. Last warning. Humor me." He begins tapping his fingers against the arm of the loveseat, waiting for me to answer.

"Don't you get it? You make me feel cheap. I don't want a one-night stand or be your sex toy. I don't casually dive into sexual encounters. I want more, some sort of commitment. Dating, getting to know the person. Hell, even some sort of emotional connection would do."

Damon snorts. "Commitments are short lived. Minimizing losses is the rational way to go about it. " _He's so clinical about relationships, its almost depressing. _

Damon's eyebrows knit together and he seems to be contemplating. He places his long index finger on his sculptured lips and my eyes move them. My tongue involuntarily swipes my dry lips. Damon speaks again breaking me out of my reverie. "So you want to be seduced? You want me to charm you till I get in your pants?"

I glare at him. "Of course not!"

"So then what do you want, Elena?" He grits my name out exasperated.

"I want you to let me go." I whisper. I really don't see how we can work. We will fuck each other like bunnies and that would be the end of it.

"It won't happen. I will get you one-way or the other. Why delay the inevitable? Now tell me what you want." He's so confident and sure, I almost want to punch him on his face.

"Give it up, Damon. We want different things. It won't work."

"Look at me, Elena. Take one good look. Does it look like I am going to give up?" His face is hard and he looks absolutely resolute. _ He is never going to give up. _We are in stalemate._ Why is this man so stubborn? Must he win at everything?_

" We are going to work this out. Right now." I can sense the finality in his tone.

"There is nothing to work out." I sound like a broken record but he just doesn't seem to get it. He's so adamant, so stubborn.

He ignores me. "We can try this emotional connection. Once a week, on the weekends does it work for you?"

"This is not a business transaction taking place in your glass tower. Jeez, do you not believe in romance at all?"

"Romance is not my repertoire, Elena. Nor do I have time or inclination to dine and wine women. You have to meet me halfway. "

"What if I say no?" I challenge.

His eyes glint with danger and I instantly regret my words. " I can be a very persuasive man."

_He knows it too! _One touch, one whiff of his cologne is all it takes for me to become a butterfly caught in his net. No matter how hard I fight it, there is no way out. Can I break my rules for him? The real question is if I want this, want him. _Of course I do._ Every pore on my body is prickling to feel his touch. My hands are itching to tear his shirt up and roam, savor every bit of his chest.

_Screw this! _ I am done being Eve staring hungrily at the apple so I squeeze out an okay.

Both his eyebrows shoot up quizzically. "Okay?"

"Okay. Let's do this." He looks shocked but recovers quickly. I am shocked too. I didn't expect to acquiesce but I am done fighting this attraction. It's physically painful and it's eating me on the inside.

He smiles smugly at his victory. _Pig. _

"Just to be clear this doesn't mean I am not going to be all googly-eyed, singing songs on your balcony like Romeo."

"I don't expect you too, either. And since we are discussing terms, we are following the three dates then sex rule." It's my turn to smile smugly. I literally cannot wipe the grin off my face.

The feral glint returns in Damon's eyes. He stands up and picks up his Ray Bans placing them on his shirt. He walks towards me and tugs me to stand forcefully, almost causing me to crash into him. The hem of my shirt slips up and Damon darts his eyes suggestively to the revealed skin. His hands slip under my shirt and I feel my breath quicken. He caresses my lace panties. Slowly. Tantalizingly. His hands move to my hips and then to my stomach. His nails dig into my flesh. I bite my lip painfully to hold back a whimper.

"I am aching to be inside you." He tilts his pelvis into mine and I can feel his erection. I want to rub against it, feel the friction.I want it inside me. The fact that I just suggested the three-dates rule is the only tiny thread holding me in my place.

He nips my neck with his teeth and I yelp. _What the hell? _ He kisses the abused skin and uses his warm tongue to soothe it. " I won't let you deny me any longer." I feel dampness in my panties and I clutch my thighs together. I feel his smile against my neck. "You want this too." It's not a question. He is completely aware of the power he has over me.

He stands straight, still invading my personal space. His tongue wets his lips in a carnal action and I feel the caress on my skin. His index finger traces my lower lip, parting them. "I am going to kiss you now."

I open my mouth to protest but he seals his mouth over mine with a wet luscious kiss. His tongue savors every part of my mouth slowly. He wraps his arms around my ass lifting me and I wrap my legs around his waist digging my hands into his soft hair. He begins sucking on my tongue ferociously literally eating at my mouth. It's raw, it's carnal and it's ecstasy. He squeezes my butt cheeks fiercely making the ache between my legs grow. Damon breaks the kiss and smiles against my lips, leaving me breathless and panting.

He carefully places me on the sofa and sits with his knees on the floor, eye to eye with me. " 5pm on Monday. I'll come and get you after work."

"What happened to only weekends?" I cock my head to the side.

"I am making an exception, baby."

The front door clicks open and Matt walks in. He's wearing a beige tank top and black running shorts. Sweat is dripping from his biceps and his forehead and he's staring intently at his iPod. His lips mold into an O when he notices us.

Damon ignores him and continues to nuzzle my nose. He kisses my mouth hard once again but doesn't deepen it.

_Oh great. Now I have to explain this...whatever this is to Matt. _

"Just sealing the deal." He explains when he looks at my annoyed face.

Damon walks off shutting the door audibly leaving a confused looking Matt staring at me.

* * *

_Another chapter guys! When I started writing this chapter I had absolutely no intention of making this deal workout. And then I overdosed on angst and depressing stories and this is what happened. I hope no one is mad at me! Tell me what you guys think. I am chewing my nails every time I post._

_Please leave a review. It means a lot. Hope you enjoyed reading and I didn't ruin anything for you. xo._


	5. Chapter 5

**First of all, I am so sorry for putting this up late. I had no internet for a week and then I have been completely disappointed with my writing. I am putting this up for my lovely readers even though this has NOT been beta'd. I am not completely satisfied with this either but here it is! **

* * *

I set the curler down on my dresser and stand up in front of the mirror to scrutinize myself one last time. I move my hands up and down, fingers gliding over and smoothing the FCUK black bandage dress I had purchased on my last birthday. The dress ends an inch over my knees, clinging to every single curve. The neck is cut deep and the red lace push-up bra I am wearing is thrusting my cleavage. For once my eyeliner is perfect. Everything seems fine.

Except it isn't.

Desire, anxiousness, I can feel all of it erupt in the pit of my stomach. I am so jittery that I burnt my finger twice with the curler and cut my inner thigh during shaving in the shower. Yoga breathing exercises are doing nothing to calm me down.

"Elenaaa." Matt sings my name seeping his annoyance.

"Coming."

I throw my black pumps into my tote, slip on a pair of flip flops and run out of my room to find Matt sitting impatiently on the couch, feet tapping the wooden flooring. He eyes me head to toe and gives a small smile of appreciation. We walk out the apartment wordlessly towards the subway station. _Thank god._

The taste of inquisition of Matt Donovan I had gotten this weekend had more than filled my appetite. There is no way I can take more. Especially not today. He had probed unremittingly for details of Damon. Questioning has always been my department. Guess not.

As usual the E subway to World Trade Center is brimming with women in tight skirts, kitten heels and men in business suits. Some are browsing the Wall Street Journal; others are chugging down their coffee. Matt and I huddle on a small space on the bench.

I place my tote between my legs and look at Matt who's scanning through his phone. I bite my lower lip ferociously. _Keep your mouth shut, Gilbert. _During 'Inquire: Damon Salvatore', I had carefully skewed the truth. Okay, more than skewed. But what could I have said? I just negotiated sex with that man who you saw me making out with? Not an option.

"There's something very unsettling about him. Be careful, Elena." Those were Matt's words, even though I had painted a sweet little picture of him wooing me with hearts and flowers. Apparently he has the word 'Dangerous' stapled to his forehead. But it doesn't matter to me. He is a siren calling out to me. I am completely entranced.

As the train begins to slow down for the second stop at Little Italy, Matt squeezes my shoulder. I peck his cheek.

"Break a leg, Matty!" He's trying to get another part-time job as a sous chef in a small bar and today he has to demonstrate his skills.

He proceeds to ruffle my curls but I see it coming and quickly swat his hands away. I spent a good hour to make them perfect and there is no way I am letting him ruin them. Matt walks out with hordes of people while I sit for another three stops.

* * *

Usually Mondays drag on. Sleepy eyes grace small cubicles in the morning. Coffee runs are more common than any other day of the week. The workload is comparably lesser but somehow I have managed to only reach the fifth page of the draft. Luckily I only have to hand in all the reports on Fridays.

Time is literally flying today and with every passing hour I am growing anxious exponentially. I've tried listening to music on my iPod. I've even tried writing in my diary but end up playing with the left over crumbs of my blueberry muffin. Caroline is down with a cold today so there is no one that she can take my mind of things. Things such as my date with Damon Salvatore in a couple of hours. She had managed to squeeze a "You look hot!" in between her sneezes in the morning. During lunch break I had gotten her Tazo China Green Tips Brewed Tea and a packet of Halls. I had then sat alone in my cubicle and eaten a huge muffin while aimlessly going through a new issue of Cosmopolitan.

* * *

As soon as the clock digits on my MacBook read 4:30pm, I make a trip to the ladies room. I brush my teeth and then apply a coat of lip-gloss. I finger-brush my curls, resting them on my shoulders before marching back to my cubicle. I open a previously typed word document on my MacBook whose screen is visible to any passer. I then pick up the draft that is still on page five and pretend to look highly engrossed in it. The truth couldn't be further away from it.

My eyes keep darting to the time as I nervously tuck a lock of my hair behind my ear over and over again.

A little while later, I hear the soft click of his shoes. I keep my act intact even though I can feel him coming closer to me. It is only when he places his hand on my shoulder that I twirl in my chair to look at him.

"Hello, Elena."

"Damon." I barely whisper out.

He always manages to take my breath away. The tailored black pinstriped Armani suit fits Damon like a glove. His crisp white shirt is unbuttoned, giving a glimpse of his chiseled chest. He's holding his black tie and a briefcase in his right hand.

I shut my MacBook and place it inside my bag along with my flip-flops. I push my feet inside the black pumps as Damon watches me intently. He holds his hand out to help me rise from my chair. His blue lasers scan every inch of my skin as I stand.

"You look stunning." I blush furiously at his compliment and he kisses my cheek softly.

"Come on, let's go." Damon's fingers clasp with mine and he tugs me outside my cubicle.

Women size me up as Damon walks past them without a glance. His demeanor is so authoritative, so confident. Caroline's eyes almost buck out when she sees Damon and I and then splits into a wide smile.

The elevator is almost full when we slide in.

"Damon." A few men acknowledge.

Damon only nods. He grips my hipbones and brings me to stand in front of him, away from the blonde haired man. His hands pull me closer and I can feel every inch of his anatomy. I lick my lips unconsciously as craving unfurls deep inside me.

The cart doors glide open and we walk hand in once again through the lobby and the turnstiles. We walk to a sleek black Ferrari parked on the curb.

"Your car?"

"Hmm."

"Are you trying to impress me?"

"Is it working?"

"Maybe, maybe not." I reply coyly and flutter my eyelashes at him.

He inhales sharply and his clear blue eyes turn a shade darker. He shakes his head and opens the car door for me.

As soon as Damon sits in the driver's seat, he throws off his blazer. He opens his gold cufflinks and folds his sleeves, revealing protruding veins on his shapely forearms. He looks like a bad boy. And the sight is wondrous. He twirls a curl in his finger and whispers, "I like these."

My brown eyes meet his blue and move to his carefully sculptured lips. Damon leans towards me and my pulse flutters in my throat. His eyes never leave mine and I am paralyzed waiting in anticipation. A soft click makes me realize that he was only fastening my seatbelt.

Damon moves back in his seat and smirks. _Asshole, knows it every time._

The Ferrari roars and we zip pass the mass of concrete buildings.

"Are you hungry?" Damon's velvety smooth voice clouts over the soft Beethoven lulling in the background.

"No, not really." _Only for you._

"Good." He smiles a salacious smile. _This is not going to be good. Or really good._

We are mostly silent in the car, only making small talk about work. I keep my eyes out, staring at building, while I play with my hands restlessly.

We stop opposite Central Park in front of a white opulent building: The Plaza. _Of course_. The valet rushes towards Damon and whizzes the car away. The interior of the hotel is more exquisite. I am awe stricken. Damon's hand clasped with mine assures that I keep walking and not stand and gape at the vast oak furnishings.

While Damon talks to the pretty skinny blond head on the reception I look over the extensive paintings. Baccarat chandeliers are hanging on the high ceiling and custom made carpets cover most of the marble floor. Each one beautiful in it's own way. I am lost in a trance and only snap out when Damon nudges me inside an oak elevator.

"Where are we going?"

"To the penthouse."

My heart begins thumping erratically and I can feel sweat on my palms. I already know why but I still ask.

"I need to fuck you." Damon replies in a low voice.

"And here I thought we were getting to know each other." I can't keep the hurt and betrayal out of my tone.

"Oh, we are." He says suggestively in a seductive voice.

I stand immobile, shooting daggers at him.

"Look, you said you aren't hungry. Fuck now, eat later. Eat now, fuck later. Either way this dress is coming off." I still want to be angry at him but the liquid desire coursing through the cleft between my legs is making it really difficult to. He affects me like no one ever has.

"This dress- his hands move over the soft bandage material caressing me- makes your ass look very delectable. And your tits"- his head swoops down and his tongue dart to my cleavage. He's tasting, licking every bit setting my skin on fire. I can my feel nipples pebble and a feral moan escapes my throat. "I want to squeeze them, I want to taste them."

He moves his head to my neck and blows on the sensitive point behind my ear while his hands continue their torture on my breasts.

"Tell me you want this."

I am pinioning wildly with lust. Lord knows I am not wearing my matching red lace lingerie set because I want to eat with him. I want this too. I grab his face with both my hands and bring it to my mine. I kiss him with a bruising force and he kisses me back with the same.

Before the kiss can go any further, the doors open to the lone penthouse.

Damon's hand goes around my waist keeping me close. He swipes the door key and we walk inside to the penthouse overlooking central park. The enormity of the situation hits me like a freight train as I walk over the threshold.

"Champagne? Anything you want to eat? "

I shake my head in dissent and look away wondering when I had become the girl who slept with men in hotel rooms.

Damon comes to stand in front of me and knits his eyebrows when he notices my distress.

"Relax, angel. I'll take care of you."

His endearment fills my heart with ardor. It's so sweet, so foreign coming out of his mouth. He massages my shoulders gently, easing the tension. His supple fingers, still massaging, move down all the way to my butt-crack. He dips me abruptly, swooping me into a kiss. His tongue is demanding, savoring every contour of my mouth. It runs over my teeth and then he starts massaging my tongue. I hold on to his nape and return the favor earning a low guttural moan that strokes my ego. I begin sucking and massaging his tongue fervently.

All uncertainties escape my mind. I crave nothing but his touch.

My hands move to his shirt trying to remove it. It's hopeless. I am too lost in the sensation of our mouths melding together.

"Clothes" I speak against his mouth.

Damon slowly brings me up to stand. He begins unbuttoning his shirt and I reach out the bottom of my dress to pull it off. Damon halts and lightly slaps my hands away.

"I want to do it." His blue orbs are dark, clouded with passion that awakens my deepest darkest desires.

My synapse fry when I see Damon without a shirt. I can't keep my eyes of him and I stare unabashed. He is lean, not an ounce of extra flesh. Hard slabs of honed muscles make up a six-pack. His chest is mostly bare with a light dusting of hair around his nipples only visible under my intense examination. He is the epitome of a beautiful primal man.

He is god and I am the worshipper. I want to worship every inch of his skin, lick the visible V of his pelvis. I want to feel his happy trail rub furiously on my skin.

After Damon sets his shoes on the side, he parades towards me.

"See something you like?" He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.

" You're really hot." I blurt out before I can stop myself. Blame the surge in my libido. His face breaks into an egoistical smirk upon hearing my remark.

He pushes my curls to one side and traces my collarbones with his index finger, his minty breath caressing my face.

"Does your dress have a zipper?"

"No."

He runs the same finger down the dip of my cleavage, over the length of my torso leaving tingles. His finger stops at the edge of my dress and he bends down. Both hands grasp my dress and he begins taking it off at a deliberately slow pace.

He kisses every newly exposed skin. He kisses my thighs, the scar from this morning, my hipbone, and my stomach. It's torture and it's making me spur with so much desire, I am sure I will lose my mind.

"Suck in a breath," Damon tells me when he reaches my breasts. I comply and the dress comes off with easy fluidity. He sends it flying on the sofa.

He steps back and eyes me greedily. Ravenously like he wants to eat me.

"You are beautiful, Elena." My cheeks redden.

"Come here." Damon's voice is commanding but I am too far gone to care. I move towards him but he pushes me on the bed instead. He prances on me and begins kissing me wilding. His lips move to my neck and then slide up to my jaw. Sucking, biting, licking making me feverish.

He moves me up slightly and swiftly removes my bra. His hands begin kneading my already hardened breasts relentlessly.

"God, your tits fit my hands perfectly." He pinches my nipples and then swirls his tongue around them. He bites my nipple hard and I whimper from pain. His warm breath blowing on them soothes the stinging pain. After mimicking the same procedure on my other nipple he begins kissing his way down.

He rubs his chin of my sex and then tugs my panties so hard; they rip audibly causing pain to ripple through my skin.

"Damon!" I yell out.

"I can't wait any longer." He shrugs unapologetically.

Just as I am about to open my mouth, his hand rubs on my sex. _Oh god, yes. _I want it harder. I want all of him.

"So smooth. Not shaved. Definitely wax." His voice is jovial. Like a kid who just got his Christmas present.

When he kisses my nether region, I start kicking him off. No one's ever gone down on me.

Damon's hand on my abdomen pins me to the bed. I kick him again. It never affects him but causes him to snap him.

"Stop, Elena. I have wanted to put my mouth on your cunt since the day I saw you. Now be a good girl and relax."

My muscles clench with desire at his brazen words and the slickness between my legs increases.

I tremble as his fingers part my nether lips.

Then his mouth is on me. He swipes his tongue across the entire length of my slit and then flattens it pushing it deeper and deeper inside. My hands grab the soft Egyptian cotton sheets as I thrash wildly, my hips bucking into him wanting more. I lose all control when his soft velvety tongue presses on my clit. He alternates between sucking gently on my clit and then giving a hard lick causing me to drown in a sea of sensation. Incoherent moans erupt from my throat as I quake.

"Damon!" I cry out as an orgasm jolts violently through me, shaking every limb. I can feel sheen of sweat on my forehead. Damon doesn't stop. He laps at my throbbing clit, laps every bit of my juices advancing deeper into my folds.

He pushes a finger deep inside me.

"You are so tight. So snug. I bet you haven't been fucked in really long," He speaks against my sex.

"How…very…effrontery." I pant.

"Glad to be breaking your dry spell." He smirks against my thighs and then presses his tongue on my clit again. The licks are harder this time and I thrash at the very first onslaught.

"Oh god!" I scream out as he inserts another finger. He curves his fingers and begins moving them. The slow pace of his fingers stop and he begins scissoring them in and out spreading me. I convulse.

"This is too much," I beg. I can't take it anymore. Tears sting my eyes as the physical sensations become too overwhelming. My clit is swollen, aching and every inch of my skin is on fire.

"Your cunt is so tight, I have to stretch you. "

"No, please." I beg once again in vain. I sound pathetic and desperate but Damon doesn't stop. The feeling of his fingers scissoring in and out of my sex combined with his tongue makes me come for a second time with the same violent force.

His hand moves from my stomach releasing me. I hear his belt unbuckle and his pants fall to the floor. My dazed mind is far off but I open my eyes to look at him. All of him. God, he is beautiful in just skin.

"You are big!" I couldn't bare the assault of his fingers. He would probably fuck me to death with his cock.

"I know," he chuckles. He fishes out a condom from his trouser pocket and puts it on swiftly with extreme dexterity. The mattress dips as he returns and begins hovering over me. My gaze rivets over his beautiful face. His cheekbones, his jaw line everything is perfect. I kiss his soft lips chastely and lie down, realizing in that moment how badly I want us to work.

He lowers slightly and the tip of his cock teases my sex. He parts my folds with his finger and rubs my slickness inside me, then bringing it up to taste. He thrusts the same finger into my mouth and I suck on it hard, tasting the leftover salt and sweet on his finger. It's sinful. It's arousing.

"You taste better than I imagined. I can't get enough of it."

"Ready?" And right then his cock pushes deep inside me with one thrust. His balls ram into me. My back arches and my tight nipples collide with the light dusting of his soft chest hair.

"Fuck! You are so tight." Damon's jaw tightens and the veins in his neck protrude as he grits out in delicious agony.

I can feel my walls adjusting, pushing to their limits as Damon fills me completely. My eyes shut and my hands move to his biceps to gain steadiness as a breathless cry escapes me.

"Open your eyes for me, Elena." He growls.

I open my eyes and gaze into his lust filled orbs. This is too intimate. Eye to eye.

Damon begins plunging in and out of me mercilessly. It's the sweetest agony. With every expert stroke of his long thick penis into my melting core, I can feel an orgasm building. I cry out ceaselessly as my head moves from one side to the other madly.

"Yes, baby, scream for me."

I yell out and Damon plunges in and out faster than ever. My nails dig into him furiously and the heels of my feet push his shapely rear deeper inside me. I am lost. Completely lost. I am owned by nothing but the need to be set free by this hunger.

His thumb moves to my clit and he begins massaging expert circles taking me higher and higher.

"Come for me," Damon orders.

My vision becomes hazy as I explode, milking his cock. A sobbing, quivering mess, calling his name over and over again. I've never experienced anything like this. Damon thrusts harshly thrice more and then comes with his hips pumping, screaming my name. I watch him avidly as he falls apart.

Damon slums next to my boneless body. His chest is heaving up and down erratically. He rolls on his back slightly and places his leg on my abdomen pulling me closer.

We are lying in all our glory, a tangled mess of sweaty limbs still riding out the aftershocks.

Euphoria. It feels like euphoria.

His hand moves to gently smooth out my curls that are now a colossal mess. His touches are so tender and once again I am addled.

"Let's go eat," Damon says still fingering my hair with immense concentration.

I smile and nod. I capture his moving wrist, halting his work on my hair and kiss his fingertips with endearment. This could work. I want it to work.

* * *

**This is the FIRST time, I've ever written smut (apart from the little snippets) so please review and tell me what you think. Incase, anyone thinks that it was too early for DEx, this story is about Elena willingly embarking on a physical relationship. I mean look at Damon! Anyone would. Also like DE have porch, mine have elevators! **

**Thank you for your reviews, favorites, follows. I love each and every one of you. Now don't forget to drop a few sentences in the box below. xo. **


	6. Chapter 6

**Firstly, I am so so sorry for the late update! I was taking my GREs and I had absolutely no time to write. I took them a few days ago and got to writing this even though I am down with a horrible cold. I hope you guys can find it in you to forgive me. There is nothing more I hate than leaving you guys lingering but sometimes life gets in the way. This is really not my best piece of work but I am getting this out for you guys. Please remember that I am beta-less and sick, so overlook any mistakes. Here goes:**

* * *

I squeeze my legs tightly, folding myself in a fetal position as I curl deeper into the thick blanket. A delicious ache shoots through the cleft between my legs, sending my brain to an overdrive. Damon and I. Thrusting. Sweating. Panting. His fingers laced with mine as he rammed all the way inside me over and over again till we both fell over the edge. Warmth begins flowing through me as I remember how his lithe fingers had tenderly run through my scalp afterwards, taming my wild curls.

I feel the sudden urge to feel him, to touch him. I roll over gently but am only met with the mattress. I open my eyes and begin combing through the penthouse to find him.

It's dark now, and the room is bathed in the soft golden lights emitting from lamps. It is the first time I really look at the opulent room. It resembles a petite pied-a-terre; exquisitely furnished in the richly decorative style of Louis XV.

Damon is sitting in his usual demeanor around a dark oak coffee table on the far left corner of the room besides a huge window overlooking the Central Park. One ankle of his is resting on his other knee; his understating power clinging to him like scent. Damon's chair is tilted towards the bed, towards me. The thought that he was watching me sleep is oddly romantic. I quickly bite the inside of my cheeks to stop the blush from spreading on my face.

Holding the blanket firmly around my naked body, I use the balls of my feet to prop myself up against the bed's headboard. Our eyes meet and I feel the familiar surge of electricity between us. It's like an electric field, pulling us, tethering us.

Damon's luscious dark hair is damp and water droplets are trickling down his hard chest. He is only wearing his Armani slacks. His trimmed pubic hair trailing from his belly button going under those slacks unfurl deep desire in my belly and I am left squeezing my legs once again.

"You went to sleep, so I ordered room service instead." _Oh!_

It is only then that I notice the luxurious spread on the coffee table.

I nod even though my heart flutters at the opportunity of knowing him, of making this much more.

Damon's shirt that is resting neatly on the foot of the bed is the only article of clothing that I can spot. I reach out and put it on. It's soft against my skin and redolent of Damon's intoxicating scent. Rolling his long sleeves, I swing my bare feet off the mattress and get off the bed. I wince as soon as I take my first step on the plush soft carpet, my legs feeling like jello. _Oh yeah, he did a number on me. _

I expect Damon's face to be plastered with his ever-present smirk. But his face is impassive as he continues staring at me. I notice the glacial look in his eyes as I inch closer and it causes uneasiness to settle in the pit of my stomach.

Damon aligns his chair, turning it away from the bed, as I take place on the soft cushioned chair opposite him.

I nervously tuck a strand of hair behind my ear as I contemplate a topic to broach. I know nothing about him other than the fact that he could make me orgasm with such force that I could black out. Before my mind can come up with any icebreakers to rescue this awkward situation, Damon gestures towards the food wordlessly and quickly helps himself to a cranberry goat cheese salad and a piece of rare-cooked meat.

With every second passing, I feel him withdrawing, the connection between us slipping further and further away. He is so close yet so far away. I am trying very hard to squelch this feeling but nothing is helping. Even the air around us is a whirlwind of tension. _Must be work related. It's not like anything happened after the mind-blowing sex we had, right? Must be. _I pacify myself and begin chewing on the piece of meat.

It's so quiet; the only sound I can hear is the clutter of our cutlery. The knives and fork hitting the fine China plates, the noise of our teeth chewing the tender meat, the sound of our red wine glasses hitting the table top. I peak up at Damon. He is still stolid. His eyes are cast downwards on his piece of meat, his blue orbs hidden; only his long lashes are visible. I begin hitting my fork and knife harder creating a harsh jarring sound to rouse a reaction from him but he doesn't even move a muscle.

"Damon." I call out.

His jaw tightens but his countenance doesn't change. He doesn't even look up. _He's ignoring me. _ And then it suddenly dawns on me that we were only having dinner because it was a part of our little contract. He never wanted this.

My heart squeezes in pain. Suddenly, the huge pent house starts feeling small. It is clawing and suffocating me. I have to get out. I need to get out. _Right now_! I storm towards the sofa where my dress is lying unceremoniously, not caring that my chair had landed upside down because of the force I had gotten up with. I care about absolutely nothing in this moment but getting away from HIM. I shrug off Damon's shirt as fast as I can and snap by bra on in record time. I squirm into my bandage dress shoving it angrily over my breasts. I turn around to find my panties but I bump into Damon's hard chest instead.

He grips my shoulders in a steel grip and bores his eyes into mine. He is watching every detail of my expression, reading my hurt, betrayal but mostly anger.

"Where do you think you are going?" He hisses.

"I am leaving." I grit out while I shove his hands off my shoulders but he quickly grabs them again.

"Eat first, then I'll drop you."

"So you can continue ignoring me? I am leaving. NOW."

The look he gives could frost the backside of the devil but there is no way I am backing down. I shoot back an equally icy glare.

"Fine, have it your way." He spits out and let goes of me.

I can see Damon buttoning his shirt from the corner but I am completely unperturbed by his actions. I'd wanted him more than anything a few hours ago and now I wanted nothing to do with him ever again. I quickly slip on my shoes and make a beeline for the door. Damon grabs me again. _Fuck. What is with this man?_

"I am taking you back home. " His domineering tone sets me off even more.

"NO! You were done with me the minute you shoved your dick inside me. Don't pretend to care." I shout back so loudly, I am sure people on the floors below us can hear me but I am way past caring. It had all been a façade for a roll in the sheets at a fancy hotel.

His eyes soften at my outburst but he doesn't let go of my hand. Our palms are squeezed together, fingers fitting perfectly. His hands are soft yet his grip enough to not let go of me.

"I just want to make sure you get home safely. Don't make this difficult."

I snort. _So now he cares?_

Damon eyes narrow and I try freeing my hand. _ Once, twice. Damn, his muscles. _

He raises his eyebrow in challenge, wanting me to say the words. _ Bastard. _

It's physically painful but I manage to squeeze out a fine. It's not like I can do anything.

And just like that we begin walking hand in hand like a perfect couple though we are anything but. I am tempted to scream "bloody murderer!" as we walk past the lobby to the driveway but Damon starts stroking my hand with the pad of his thumb, mollifying me. I am so confused by his mood swings. Why had he ignored me? Why was he angry for me leaving on my own? Why is he drawing circles on my skin? Damon gives new meaning to the old adage "running hot and cold". But even now his touches set me on fire, flood me with desire.

* * *

The tension from the hotel room follows us inside his sports car.

As soon as Damon let's go of my hand to grab the steering wheel, my mood start shifting all over the place. A part of me wants to curl up and cry and the other part of me wants to kick his groin. I close my eyes and shore up my composure, choosing to stare at the blurring lights outside as we whiz towards downtown.

"Elena." I hear Damon say my name. It's a soft unsure whisper but I don't turn around to look at him. It's my turn to ignore him. Apparently we both are twelve.

It is not till we are near my apartment that I realize that I won't see him after this. . The lingering ache between my legs reminds me of the things we had done, the places where Damon had been.

I feel such a strong motility of bruising longing it hurts physically

I stare at the physical contours of his face, soaking them. His face is already imprinted in my mind but I give it one last glance. As soon as Damon parks the car, I dash outside.

I hear Damon telling me to let him explain but I cannot turn around. Not now. I couldn't go back to him. He has the power to destroy me and I have known that all along.

* * *

**AWFULLY SHORT? I know. I hate angst with a capital A. I have a serious aversion to it and I am a massive DE shipper. So ironic. Please don't forget to drop a review. I am especially nervous about this chapter cos it took me 3 hours fighting myself to go the angst way. **


	7. Chapter 7

**It's 3 am and I am uploading this chapter cos you all rock and I keep you waiting too long. I am sorry, life gets in the way. This chapter is almost 3000 words so I hope it makes up for the wait. ALSO NO BETA and 3 am: overlook any and all mistakes. Special shout out to arwen01 for inspiring me to write this. **

* * *

For the third in a row, I find Casa Salvatore's lobby completely devoid of the suave men and women scurrying every direction. It's eerily quiet and I can hear my ballet flats coming in contact with the marble floor.

It is only when I step out of the elevator and hear Caroline's chipper voice that I am reassured a zombie apocalypse hasn't killed everyone.

Caroline is holding the phone to her ear with her left hand and drawing hearts on her notebook with the other. Her bright blue eyes shift to me and she audibly drops the pen, leaving it to rest on the notebook. Using her now free hand she points to her thick gold boyfriend watch and mouths, "8:15 again?"

I have figured that coming late and leaving later is the only way to avoid rendezvous with Damon Salvatore in a 27.1 square feet enclosed area with no egress. Seeing his face twice everyday in the elevator would be like passing the school hallway and seeing the big fat zero you got on an exam put up on a soft board just to shame you and remind you of what a disappointment you had been.

A reminder I most definitely do not need.

Before I can mentally scroll through all other reasons to support my late arrival and departure argument, Caroline's two long fingers held up high capture my attention, indicating that she will take two more minutes.

I mouth a later and sprint towards my cubicle knowing that I would be in grave shit if I didn't start working on the unread scripts amassed on my desk right away.

The fact that Saltzman Publishing had not been able to sign with one good writer over a month had led to Alaric reproach all of us in the never used conference room.

Aware of the fact that I am probably leading the slacker list, I had scooped half of the scripts assigned to me and taken them home, pouring over them till the wee hours with the help of caffeine.

Entering my cubicle, I place my coffee mug on my desk and then proceed to take out the hefty stack of scripts, arranged in order of likes and dislikes with lots of post-its stuck to them, from my tote.

I prop myself on my chair and slide my ballet flats off using my feet to assuage the laborious pain in the backs of my feet as soon as I sit down. Bringing my right foot from under the table to my line of vision I examine the damage on my ankles. Deep red lines are tattooed on my skin thanks to my furious pounding of the Hudson River pavements to Pink's 'Blow Me' on repeat yesterday.

I shake my head at my stupidity. Punishing my feet is in no way going to rectify my lapse in judgment.

The loud welcoming sound of my laptop averts my attention to it from my blisters. The blue-gray screen transmutes to a close-up picture of me sitting on Matt's shoulders on Brooklyn Bridge because I was too lazy to walk more.

The icons emerge slowly.

I click on the mail one and begin dredging through junk; numerous Groupon deals and store sales when my cursor suddenly loiters over 'Damon Salvatore'.

My hands begin trembling and so does the cursor on the screen. I twice move the cursor to the trashcan and down back to his email.

To read or not to read? Throwing caution to the wind, I click on the mail, and brace myself for the unknown:

_My office. 11 AM. _

I have the urge to scream at a decibel that will deafen everyone but hold it inside.

After telling my thick skulled self more than five times that he we had nothing between us save three orgasms and that was not going to effect me, I finally trash his email and pick up the first script from the unread pile.

* * *

I am rummaging for a synonym on when the intercom on my desk starts emitting a buzzing sound.

As soon as I bring the speaker to my ear my heart stutters in my chest as the smooth velvety voice washes over me, bringing back memories of the time he had spent inside me, bubbling the heartache to the surface that I had buried deep inside.

"Come up here or I am coming down there."

My throat is suddenly itchy and I have to gulp water from my bottle before putting my larynx to use.

So much for telling myself that he didn't not affect me.

"I am not coming up, Damon. I don't know if I didn't make it clear but we are over." My own words sting but there is no way I am taking that route again.

"Let me explain."

"There is nothing to explain. It was a good fuck, let's just leave it at that."

"Listen to me, Elena, we are doing this either way. You can be a good girl and come here or I can resort to other methods." My pulse quickens because I know it's just not a threat, it's a promise.

I am so close to checkmate. _Think fast. _

"I am really busy right now." I am really grasping at straws right now to avoid him. _Please, let it work, God. Please. _

"Fine, I'll give you till before lunch."

The phone clicks, leaving only a beeping sound.

I groan and rest my head on my desk, hands on my nape. _Shit. Shit. Shit._ I am so screwed. Staring at my computer screen I begin strategizing on how to buffer against whatever he has to say.

In between all my strategizing, I end up making the decision to not yield to his threats. Giving into him is what has gotten me in this mess. I am not moving from my chair, even if it means gluing myself to it.

My feet start tapping audibly and my eyes keep zooming into the digital clock on the upper right corner of my MacBook as lunch hour inches closer, afraid that Damon will walk in any moment and hurl me over his shoulder. Caveman, that he is.

The clock strikes 12 and there is still no sign of Damon. I should be relieved but the feeling of trepidation doesn't seem to shake off.

He isn't one to give up.

"Okay, I know that you have been ignoring that slut and I promise not talk about him but it's the third day today and I refuse to go for lunch alone."

Using the balls of my bare feet, I spin my chair around. Caroline is standing on the threshold of my cubicle, manicured hands on her hips, a perfect eyebrow raised in question.

I nod a bit too enthusiastically, sending a silent thank you to the heavens for Caroline's impeccable timing. It's the perfect way to dodge Damon. I push my feet inside my shoes and pick up my bag while Caroline smiles at her victory widely. If only she knew…

* * *

Caroline is talking breathlessly about how hot the new intern and I am swinging the bag of my left over delicious kimchi tacos from a food truck we had gotten while we wait for the elevators to take us up.

I hear the elevator ding indicating that is going to stop on our floor and I instinctively move closer. The doors slide open to reveal Damon standing in the middle.

Blue eyes meet mine; and I am suddenly sucked in a vortex of churning emotions that I hadn't allowed myself to surrender to; need, hunger, want and above all pain and anger.

I am fixed, rooted in spot due to the different emotions running through me but Damon grabs my hand and pulls me inside. His right hand goes up, halting the movements of others who want to board the elevator car. His other hand locked with mine, fitting just the way I remember. The door closes on the astonished faces of Caroline and others and I am left with Damon.

Alone in the one place I had been so desperately avoiding.

Blinking from my semi-daze, I free my hand from his and move away from him, feeling the need to put space between us, to nullify the sexual charge rushing through my body.

Damon pushes his key card inside and the car begins its ascent.

"What do you think you are doing, Damon?" I cannot keep the acridity from my voice away.

"We are going to talk," comes his reply as he shoves both his hands in his pockets, appearing more dominant than he already is.

"We are NOT going to talk. You fucked me and were done. DONE, Damon," I speak stressing my words.

Damon continues staring at the elevator doors, completely unfazed by my words.

He pulls his keycard out and the elevator doors slide open to Salvatore Industries. Damon steps out but I don't move. This elevator is going down and I am going down in it.

Damon whirls around to see me standing in the elevator and I defiantly lift my chin up.

He takes two long strides and swiftly lifts me over his shoulder. I am so fucking sick of his caveman moves.

I want to smack his head but settle for biting his shoulder hard, teeth plunging into his white shirt. Damon hisses in pain and I cannot keep grin of satisfaction away from my face.

Damon's soft hand crawls up higher on the naked flesh of my thighs and his nails lightly scrape the area sending a shiver through me. His deft fingers begin massaging my inner thighs and I bite him again to silence the moan threatening to emit from my mouth.

The torturous movement on my thighs stops and I can hear a door opening, the hair cascading on my face barring me from any vision.

After a few more steps, Damon cautiously lowers me on the sofa in his extravagant office. Sitting straight up, I square my shoulders and fold my arms over my chest shooting daggers at him while he loosens the knot of his navy blue tie.

He settles on the sofa adjacent to mine and rests his elbows on his knees, eyes boring into mine.

"You can't make me talk."

Damon runs a hand through his onyx hair and I have the sudden urge to run my fingers through them. I lace my fingers together instead.

Softness enters his eyes and he almost looks vulnerable when he speaks the next words leaving me completely rattled, "Please."

I nod, unable to speak. Unable to even think beyond the fact how pleading his tone is.

"I want you," Damon says leaning back slightly, some of his confidence returning.

"You had me."

"More than what we had the last time."

A part of me is still itching to recreate the moment of perfect pure intimacy we had shared. We hadn't just shared three orgasms, I had bared my soul raw to him in those moments, had come alive. I am drowning in the need to push off his perfectly tucked white shirt and reveal his powerful biceps, to graze my finger on each of his abs, for him to take me again but he had scarred me and I knew I had to cut him off.

"That was a mistake, one I am not going to commit again."

"Like hell, it was a mistake. I won't let you go."

"But you did the last time."

"Look, I fucked up."

"And who says you won't again?"

"I won't." He's so confident, it's astonishing but I have no reason to believe him.

"And I wont fall in your trap again. "

Damon squirms in his seat, visibly struggling with what to say next.

"I was afraid." He gulps staring at the coffee table away from my gaze, looking so unlike the controlling caveman I know him to be. His blue orbs seem dreary and I can see his Adam's apple bop up and down. Idon't speak out of fear that he will stop confessing whatever he is about and wait for him to speak again.

"Fuck!" His face is suddenly hard with frustration. "I have never felt this way about anyone it's frustrating as hell. I can't stop thinking about you, wanting you. You make me wild. I had to cut you off but it only made me realize that I like you too much. I won't let you go this time. I can't."

The rush of delight that sweeps over me is ridiculously powerful.

"I like you too." I spill out before I can control myself.

"So, then we are doing this."

"I never said anything…"

"What else do you want me to do for you to give me a fucking chance again?! You have to give me another chance." Damon moves towards me and cups my face, his thumbs running softly over my jaw, his eyes boring into mine, begging me to risk it all.

He's laid all his cards on the table and now it's my turn. I already know my answer.

Grabbing his collar with both my hands, I pull Damon towards me and kiss him as if I could eat him alive. Damon's lips are frozen against mine but I am insistent. Chewing on his bottom lip, I plunge my tongue in his mouth. I finally earn a deep growl from Damon and feel his tongue moving against mine. His hands travel to my back pressing my breasts firmly into his chest and I begin stroking his tongue harder, exploring every bit of his intoxicating mouth.

Damon breaks off the kiss and pushes me vertical on the sofa, climbing on top of me. I am achingly aware of every hot inch of his body pressed against mine. He begins kissing me again, tongue dipping in my mouth. His licks are long and leisurely yet partially aggressive, turning me on. I can feel my skin mystifying and my breasts becoming tender, my hands in his hair becoming more violent.

I push my ballet flats off and dig the balls of my feet in his shapely rear to eradicate the distance between us, the need to be closer to him consuming me. He is my drug.

Damon begins kissing his way down, kissing my breasts from the shirt and giving them a hard squeeze that shoots tingles all the way down to my cleft causing me to rub against the material of his black pants.

Seeing my reaction, Damon yanks my skirt up, bunching it around my waist. He pushes my black panties to my feet, not taking them off completely and swiftly thrusts a finger inside me causing my back to arch. _Fuck… so good! _

His finger thrusts out and he pushes back two inside this time making me moan. Every thrust hits deeper inside my core. I am writhing like a bitch in heat on his office sofa, getting finger fucked, but I am not bothered in the slightest. I am near mindless with the need to orgasm. My hands thrash wildly as I try to grip on anything, my nails scratching the leather.

My hips begin circling as Damon's fingers begin moving in and out faster.

"You are such a greedy little thing, Elena," Damon smiles salaciously but I crossed the road to care-ville the second his hands were on me.

Every pore in my body is radiating heat and his name is like a prayer on my lips, one I cannot stop repeating. The noise of the phone ringing joins my chants, neither of us caring.

Damon's finger lightly grazes over my clit but it is not enough, I need more.

"Please..."

"Not yet, I want you to come hard." His fingers don't stop stroking me but never once move to my swollen clit.

"Please..." I beg again.

As soon as the word leaves my mouth, Damon begins massaging my clitoris with his thumb making me delirious. I am slave to his touch.

"Look at me when you come," Damon orders. His face flushed, breathing heavy with lust and his voice is low and intimate.

"I can feel your walls squeezing my finger. Give it up. Come baby, come for me." Damon speaks over the phone that has been ceaselessly ringing.

I climax with a strong cry, hips rocking his hand impudently, my eyes locked with his unable to move away from his lusty eyes.

Pleasure is still pulsing through me when Damon finally walks over to the phone on his desk and answers it.

I am too lost in sensation to hear what he says or even to move.

Damon returns to the sofa where I am lying and kneels next to me. Pushing my sweaty hair off, he places a tender kiss on my forehead. I turn my face towards him and smile.

Damon turns his head towards the coffee table and pulls out Kleenex from the box resting on it. Moving further south he begins cleaning the area between my legs with extreme gentleness and focus. It is these moments of intimacy that I crave so deeply. The gentleness he shows in such moments that have me completely confused, aching for him.

"I have a meeting right now, baby." He says disposing off the tissues.

"I better get going anyway or Alaric might have my head on a platter."

Damon gives me his hand and I finally sit up, my legs still a bit wobbly. Restoring my appearance with the help of Damon who wouldn't stop brushing my hair with his fingers but had finally let me put it up in a bun and a soft sweet parting kiss initiated by Damon later I walk out of his office with the biggest grin. All my front teeth in display. I am happy.

* * *

**HAPPY NEW YEAR, EVERYONE! Make me happy by dropping a review. Pretty Please?**


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